Chapter 31

_Gab._ (_solus_). Four-- Five--six hours have I counted, like the guard Of outposts, on the never-merry clock, That hollow tongue[190] of time, which, even when It sounds for joy, takes something from enjoyment With every clang. 'Tis a perpetual knell, Though for a marriage-feast it rings: each stroke Peals for a hope the less; the funeral note Of Love deep-buried, without resurrection, In the grave of Possession; while the knoll[191] 10 Of long-lived parents finds a jovial echo To triple time in the son's ear. I'm cold-- I'm dark;--I've blown my fingers--numbered o'er And o'er my steps--and knocked my head against Some fifty buttresses--and roused the rats And bats in general insurrection, till Their curséd pattering feet and whirling wings Leave me scarce hearing for another sound. A light! It is at distance (if I can Measure in darkness distance): but it blinks 20 As through a crevice or a key-hole, in The inhibited direction: I must on, Nevertheless, from curiosity. A distant lamp-light is an incident In such a den as this. Pray Heaven it lead me To nothing that may tempt me! Else--Heaven aid me To obtain or to escape it! Shining still! Were it the star of Lucifer himself, Or he himself girt with its beams, I could Contain no longer. Softly: mighty well! 30 That corner's turned--so--ah! no;--right! it draws Nearer. Here is a darksome angle--so, That's weathered.--Let me pause.--Suppose it leads Into some greater danger than that which I have escaped--no matter, 'tis a new one; And novel perils, like fresh mistresses, Wear more magnetic aspects:--I will on, And be it where it may--I have my dagger Which may protect me at a pinch.--Burn still, Thou little light! Thou art my _ignis fatuus!_ 40 My stationary Will-o'-the-wisp![192]--So! so! He hears my invocation, and fails not. [_The scene closes_.